


Let Go Laughing

by lizook12



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Future Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-07
Updated: 2014-05-07
Packaged: 2018-01-23 20:32:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1578623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizook12/pseuds/lizook12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His team was a player short and she’d be the perfect secret weapon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Go Laughing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spyglass](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spyglass/gifts), [effie214](https://archiveofourown.org/users/effie214/gifts).



> Gifted to these amazing ladies because they've both had rough days and are the only people I know that love baseball as much as I do. 
> 
> Partially inspired by the Scully & Mulder scene in _The Unnatural_. Title from Sugarland's _It Happens_.

She taps the bat against the dirt, watches as he finishes setting up the pitching machine. His eyes are bright in the setting sun, mouth lifting as he walks across the grass towards her.

Suddenly this seems like the worst possible plan of action. She should just stick to taking pictures of the annual QC softball game for the company newsletters instead of being placed on the team for the first time.

He’d been insistent though; his team was a player short and she’d be the perfect secret weapon.

“Are you sure this a good idea?” She sighs, draws an F in the dirt.

“Yes...” He stops a few feet in front of her, laughing as she finishes her initials. “If for no other reason than to see how they squeezed ‘Smoak-Queen’ on your jersey.”

“They probably just—”

“No, no explaining it away.” He guides her to the batter’s box, smirks as she sets her feet. “I want a picture of it for the office.”

“You have some weird fetish you want to explain?”

“Nothing beyond that one...” His voice drops, jaw pressed to her shoulder as he directs her bat into place. “Of you with my mask binding your wrists...”  

Glancing back at him, she grins, then nudges him away so she can take a few practice swings.

He watches in silence for a few minutes, arms crossed over his chest, head tipped towards her as she bends her back knee, adjusts her weight just so.

“Ok, remember how to grip the bat...” He steps back into the grass and heads to the machine, chuckling as she raises an eyebrow at him. “Left hand on the bottom, right right above it; don’t forget to tuck your thumbs in.”

He grins as she rolls her eyes, hands already firm around the metal base. Her feet shift an inch closer to the plate and she nods at him, mouth pressed into a thin line as he turns the machine on.

The first ball sails past before she even realizes it, the second makes her jump, but by the third she’s focused. Gaze full of concentration, teeth pressing into her bottom lip as she turns her body, moves her arms in a complete half circle.

She has a pretty fluid swing, all the mechanics they talked about seemed to have stuck (not that he expected any different; her determination is one of the things he loves most about her), but her timing is off.

She’s not connecting with a single ball and he can tell it’s getting to her.

That she’s about to toss the bat down—on the ground or possibly at him—so he slows the machine another notch and hustles back to home plate.

Stepping behind her in the box, he cages his arms around her, smiles as her body presses back into his.

“This is no good.” She slices angrily through the air, jaw clenching.

“It is, you’ve almost got it. Just...” He lets one hand settle low on her waist, the other wrapping around hers. “Remember hips...” His fingers flex against her side. “Before hands.”

Nodding, she lets him guide her, her swing becoming even smoother as she stops thinking, lets go and trusts his direction.

“Yes, see, that’s perfect.” The hand holding hers drops, splays over her other hip. “I think you were just looking for some hands-on instruction.”

“It was more that the breeze was making me cold...”

“Right...” His grip tightens on her hip, voice low in her ear as he presses even closer. “Now, watch the ball and just feel it. Feel it like at night when your feet are freezing and they, somehow, end up tucked between my legs, just like—”

Her body shakes slightly as the bat cracks against the ball, her laughter echoing in the crisp night air as she watches it go sailing.

Turning in his arms, she pushes him back out of the of the box. Her eyes are wild with excitement—happiness—fingers dancing across his chest as the back of his legs meet the low wall of the dugout.

He’s laughing and grinning right along with her, hand cupping her elbow to keep himself from falling backwards. “You did it!”

“I did, no thanks to your rambling.”

“Oh, _I_ ramble?”

“Mhmm.” Her mouth tips up, arm falling over his shoulder. “I guess you’ve been with me too long.”

“Never.”

He tugs her the rest of the way forward, mouth nipping at her jaw before covering hers in a searing kiss.

Her tongue curls against his, strokes along the inside of his cheek, as she sighs into his mouth.

Teases him with the pull of her teeth on his bottom lip.

He groans, sucks in a harsh breath as his hands fist in the soft fabric of her tee and he breaks away. “You...” Swallowing thickly, he brushes his thumb across her lower back. “You up for more batting practice?”

“No...” Her hand slips under the waistband of his jeans, leading him off the field. “Let’s try warming the bench...”


End file.
